Reader's Special DIRECTOR'S CUT
by xenascully
Summary: This is in direct relation to Disasteriffic Kaz's 'Reader's Special – Fourth Edition'. I take all the insane and/or crack-worthy prompts she can't use, and put them in here! READ HER CHAPTERS FIRST or this makes no sense. Rating may go up. Warnings would be at the start of each chapter.
1. Chapter 2 (set right after DK's Ch1)

**Reader's Special – Director's Cut** (for 4th)

**This is in direct relation to Disasteriffic Kaz's _Reader's Special – Fourth Edition_. I take all the insane crack-worthy prompts she can't use, and put them in here! READ HER CHAPTERS FIRST or this makes no sense**

**Here's how this is gonna work. Most of the prompts Kaz can't use are because it would end the story too quickly or that the prompter didn't read the rules and asked for something outside the timeline. I'll put the prompts at the end of each chapter, not using names. (Please note that if you asked for a different timeline, I won't be going to that timeline, but rather trying to fit it into this one.)**

**Each chapter will be UNRELATED to the next. My chapters will ALWAYS be related to Kaz's chapter before it. In other words, I will write DIRECTOR'S CUT-chapter 2. But DIRECTOR'S CUT chapter 3 will be as if DIRECTOR'S CUT chapter 2 didn't really happen. DIRECTOR'S CUT chapter 3 will be a chapter that follows KAZ'S chapter 2, and so on (because this is the only way the prompt will work and make sense—and I use that phrase loosely! LOL)**

_Bringing you up to speed: _Set post 8x17 "Goodbye Stranger"

_Kaz's chapter 1 (summarized)_

_Set in season 8. Sam is sickly from the trials, to an extent, but insists on going on a hunt he's found in Alaska, where people are going missing, turning up dead/frozen/torn up. The opening scene revealed some sort of shadowy creature attacking a dude named Gary. He was working on an oil rig and starting to head back to base because it was cold and dark and all that "something is about to kill me" criteria. The chapter ends with Dean reluctantly agreeing to go, and saying he won't fly..._

*~.~*

"Guuuuuuuuuuh," Dean groaned after taking another shot of whiskey in a bar at LAX, Sam sitting beside him looking amused. "I said no flying, Sam. I said no freaking flying and not only did you sucker me into one flight, but now I gotta get back on another one... You suck, bitch."

Sam snorted a laugh and shook his head. "You survived the first flight," he reminded him. "It wasn't even that bad. This flight'll be okay. You can do it." On the other side of the bar, Sam absentmindedly spotted a man and woman standing near the corner, arguing quietly. The woman looked familiar.

"'Course I can do it," Dean scoffed. "You'll have to carry me to _it_ though, because I plan to not know who I am before we get on that next damn plane." The man's back was to Sam, but the woman seemed to be progressively getting upset by the man's words, whatever they were.

"I'm not carrying you, Dean. If fact, I don't know if they'll let you on-board if you get that sloshed."

"Promise?" Dean raised his brows hopefully.

The amusement dropped from Sam's face. "I don't care if I gotta brush your teeth and tell the check-in lady you've got a neurological disorder, we are both getting on that plane." Sam's eyes shot back over to the corner of the room just as the man grabbed roughly onto the woman's arm.

"Let go of me!" she yelled, but the man tugged at her still, roughly trying to direct her to leave with him.

Sam shot up out of his seat and stalked toward them, Dean spinning in his chair slightly, confused as to what was happening. "Leave her alone," Sam called out to the man.

The man stopped and turned around, a scowl on his face. "This is none of your business, so back off, dude."

Sam ignored him and looked to the woman. "Do you want him to let go of you, ma'am?" Fearfully she nodded. Sam looked back to the man. "Let go of her or we'll call security and they'll make you do it themselves. I can't promise they'll be as nice as I am."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" The man violently released the woman and she fell back onto the floor as the man walked toward Sam.

Dean instantly sobered at the sight of the fairly large man stalking toward his brother. Every protective cell in his body began to rush through his veins and had him out of his seat within moments.

"Think you're some kinda hero?" the man asked Sam.

Sam held out his hands in a peaceful gesture. "I don't wanna fight you, man," he said as he shook his head. "The girl looked scared, and I just wanted to make sure she was okay." 

"Like I told you before, it's none of your damn concern!" The man moved to lunge at Sam, but Dean was tackling the guy before Sam even realized his brother had gotten up from the bar. He watched as they both hit a table and chair set, Dean's back twisting oddly before they hit the floor. Dean quickly had the upper hand and Sam knew he had it under control. These were just people, after all.

"You okay?" Sam asked the woman who was staring wide-eyed and tearful at the men fighting on the floor.

She looked over to Sam and nodded again. "Thank you," she told him shakily. "God...thank you," she shook herself out of the strange daze she seemed to have been in.

"Hey, this is gonna sound horribly cliched, but do I know you from somewhere?" he tilted his head.

She laughed wetly, sniffling before running a hand over her cheek. "I think I'd remember you," she replied.

"I could swear I've seen you somewhere before," Sam continued.

"Maybe," she nodded, both of them oblivious to the swarm of security guards that came in to pull the fighting men apart. "I'm a model. Not really famous or anything...yet," she smirked.

"Oh my god, now I remember!" Sam's finger waved in the air as he pulled the memory from his brain. "You're the new Sully Sunshine tanning oil girl!"

She groaned. "I hope it's not this embarrassing every time someone says that," she said with a grimace.

"Hey, it could be so much worse."

"Yeah?"

"You could be in a genital herpes commercial."

"I hate to interrupt," Dean's voice drew their attention to him still lying on the floor, a bit of annoyance showing on his face. "But I could use a hand getting up, if you don't mind. Think I did somethin' to my back."

"Sorry," Sam reached down and grabbed Dean's hand with both of his, and pulled.

"Everybody okay over here?" one of the guards asked as the others hauled the man off.

"Yeah, I think we're good," Dean grunted as he stood. "Sunshine-girl over here might need to make a few phone calls, though."

"Alianne," the woman replied with a grin. "And yeah...I'll be okay. Thanks, both of you," she looked back and forth between Sam and Dean. "Not sure I'll have agents lining up to represent me, now, but hey," she smiled, "Showing up for shoots needing extra makeup for bruises on my arms was never really good for business."

"Any agent who isn't smart enough to take on a gorgeous and obviously smart girl like you, is an idiot," Sam smiled. Alianne blushed as she looked down at her feet. "Hey, can we walk you to your gate?"

"Oh uh...yeah sure. That'd be great," she looked back up at them. Dean rolled his eyes, but when she looked at him he smiled at her.

"Got any bags?"

"They're all checked," she replied. "This was just a layover," she told them as they headed out of the bar.

"Where're you headed?" Dean asked.

"Vancouver," she replied. "We're doing a winter-wear catalog for Shawny's."

"Guess it's not the right season for tanning oil," Sam grinned. Dean rolled his eyes again.

*~.~*

"You sure you're okay, Dean?" Sam asked mid-flight.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Dean raised a brow. "I didn't realize you were paying attention to me again."

"What?" Sam asked with an incredulous look on his face.

"Your head was so far up Alianne's ass she might need to take a pregnancy test."

"Are you-" Sam began to argue, but quickly changed tactics. "Oh I see... You're pissed that she was talking to _me_ and not you."

"Pretty sure both of you were not talking to me," Dean retorted, swishing his drink in his glass over the tray table as he spoke. "And you were flirting so hard back and forth I was surprised there was no 'mile-high club' proposition."

Sam just stared at him for a few moments, watching him finish his drink. "I don't even know what to say to you right now," he said, finally. "And is this your way of distracting yourself from flying? Giving me a hard time about something that didn't even happen? Ya know, Alianne is a nice girl."

"Oh I know she is," Dean replied. "She gave me a Xanax for the flight," he said as he smiled. "She understands me, Sammy. She needs them for flying, too."

"Awesome," Sam sat back in his seat. "So you're drunk _and _stoned."

"Relax, princess. We've gotta wait for our stuff to ship to the hotel before we do anything anyway. I've got the rest of the night to recover."

Sam let out a breath, realizing that Dean was right. At least Dean wasn't on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. Dean's weird fears always made him close to intolerable to be around, let alone impossible to deal with or help. If a little anxiety pill and a few drinks put him at ease like this, Sam would have to let it slide just in this case.

"Hey Sam?" Dean sounded beside him, and Sam turned his head to see his brother looking glassy-eyed at him. "It's like...freezing in Alaska, right?"

"Probably at least below 40."

"We're gonna have to get some winter stuff. Like _real_ winter coats and snow-pants and snow shoes and stuff."

"Yeah, probably."

"Yeah, 'cause...we wear layers when it's like 90 out, dude," Dean said with a dopey half-grin. "We're not made for that kinda cold."

"We'll get some warm clothes, Dean," Sam said and couldn't help a small smile of amusement.

"Some Eskimo suits," Dean grinned. "We'll probably have to special order for you, dude. We're gonna be laid up in a hotel for days just waiting on them to find a Sasquatch big enough to kill and turn into a coat for you," he giggled at the end of the sentence.

Sam tried hard to hold in his own laughter, not at the statement but at his brother's 'giggle', which he would remember to give him a hard time about later. "You're a jerk," he told him without being able to hold back a smile.

Just then, the plane began to shake fairly vigorously, and Dean grabbed onto Sam's arm. Sam knew it was turbulence, but something flared in his chest in that moment, and his hand shot over Dean's and squeezed until they passed through the rough air.

"Whoa, little brother," Dean let out a lighthearted laugh. "_I'm_ supposed to be the one scared of flyin'."

Sam didn't reply as he took his hand back and placed it over the fluttering in his ribcage. He tried to cough and clear it, only sending him into a coughing fit. He reached for Dean's drink-napkin at the same time Dean went to hand it to him, and used it to catch the bit of blood he coughed up. After a moment of letting Sam catch his breath, Dean asked, "You good?"

Sam realized, then, that Dean was still holding onto Sam's arm with one of his hands. "M'okay," Sam nodded. He saw the worry in his brother's eyes, even drugged and boozed up. "Really, I'm fine. Get some sleep, Dean. You look like you need to pass out, anyway." 

"You stayin' up?"

"Probably."

"Kay," Dean replied, then shifted closer and laid his head on Sam's shoulder. He did this as if he always did this; as if it were normal and they flew all the time and this is just a thing they did, like Dean taking the bed closest to the door. Sam wasn't sure how to react to it, but he let him stay there, let him keep holding onto his arm. Somehow it gave them both comfort.

*~.~*

"Ooooh man, it's been a while since I slept like that and didn't wake up feeling like death warmed over," Dean said as he stretched awake on the hotel bed. Upon a breath in he noticed an aroma in the air. "Do I smell food?" he asked as he sat up and noticed Sam was unpacking a bag of take-out containers. "You got breakfast? What time is it? You don't even have a proper coat, dude. You should've waited-"

"Until you got up to go out without a proper coat?" Sam asked with a raised brow. Dean snapped his mouth closed, not having a decent retort for that. "I got you the classic Alaskan breakfast," Sam told him, walking the container over to the bed. "An egg nestled on a pancake, and...reindeer meat," he finished with a bit of a grimace.

"Dude... Reindeer meat?" He looked excited as he opened the container to look at his breakfast. "You think this is Comet or Cupid?"

"Just eat your breakfast," Sam shook his head and walked back over to the second bag he brought in. "And speaking of proper coats, I picked you up some stuff, and..." he mumbled the rest of the sentence.

"What?" Dean asked around a mouth full of food.

"You were right," Sam replied. "I had to special order my stuff..."

"Don't feel so bad, Sam. There's what, like...50 people in this city? They don't keep too much in stock for giants."

Sam shook his head and huffed a breathy laugh as he reached down for his coffee. Then the same fluttering feeling he'd felt in his chest on the plane was suddenly back again. Coffee forgotten, he brought his hand up to his chest, determined not to start himself coughing again, he started patting his chest to try and stop...whatever this was.

"Dude, what's up with you?"

"N-nothing," Sam straightened and pulled out a chair so he could sit down and play off the weird sensation.

"You get pneumonia on top of everything else, I'm kickin' your ass. And then I'm draggin' your ass back to the bunker."

"Just...eat your Rudolph," Sam waved a hand at him. "I said I'm good."

"Fine. I'll eat and then I'll go check out the coroner's office."

"Not without me, you're not."

"You don't have anything warm enough to wear outta here," Dean argued.

"I left here to get breakfast and find you warm stuff to wear, didn't I?"

"That's different."

"Not really, Dean. If we needed to go hike out someplace where we weren't gonna be inside for a while, sure. This fact-checking stuff, though, I can handle. I'll wear some extra layers. It'll be fine."

"What now I can't go anywhere by myself?"

"Not with an unknown monster out there. It could be one of the people you talk to. Hell, it could be the coroner."

"Is it the cold making you a bitch or are you just _that_ worried about me?"

"Is it the detox making you a jerk or is it because you're _short_?"

"You wanna go out with me and freeze your lady-parts off, then fine. Just don't ask for my coat, Samantha."

"You're welcome for getting that stuff for you, by the way," Sam responded with raised brows.

"Thanks," he grinned. "So where the hell is _your_ breakfast?"

"Ate it on the way back," he told him. "Kept me warm, anyway."

"More than I can say for this stuff," Dean poked at the food in his container. "We got a microwave in this place?"

*~.~*

"So our stuff is getting here tomorrow, right?" Sam asked as they trekked into the coroner's office from their rental in the parking lot.

"Overnight expressed it, courtesy of William Robert Thorton," Dean smirked.

It took him a moment to get it. "Billy Bob? Dude..."

"Get used to it. It's what we booked the room under, too."

"Agents Thorton and Jolie?" a man greeted as they walked into the coroner's office.

Sam glared daggers at the side of his brother's head as Dean greeted the man. "What gave us away?" he asked as he shook the man's hand.

"I know every face on this island, and neither of you are one of 'em," he replied with a grin. "I'm Jack. Spoke with you on the phone. I trust you got in without any problems?"

"Nothing a little whiskey couldn't handle, right, Thorton?" Sam smiled.

Dean shot him a glare before turning back to Jack. "So how about those bodies you've got for us to take a look at?"

"Well...body," Jack replied. "Couldn't hold on to the others any longer. Families wanted them put to rest and all," he told them as he began to walk them down the hall. "We don't really have much room here to store them anyway."

"What about the family of this body you still have?" Dean asked.

"This one's a John Doe. Not from here, far as we can tell. And really, there's not a lot left of him to tell much of anything. We've run the DNA but whoever it was, isn't in any database we've sent it through."

"Did you do tox screens on the bodies?" Sam asked.

"All came back with nothing," Jack replied, shaking his head. "It's messed up, I'll tell you that much. I will tell you that I've seen, first hand, injuries from attacks of wildlife in this area. But this is different. First thing people thought was mountain lion. An attack like that would require fear or hunger, and if they were hungry-"

"They would've eaten the bodies," Sam finished for him. "Not left them behind like that."

"Or eaten any of it," Jack added. "There are wounds and tears, but everything is, essentially, there." He opened a door for them to let them in. "Tubs are in the freezer. I've seen enough of it, myself."

"Jack?" Sam looked back before the door was closed. "You said you know all the faces here. Is it possible that any of them could've done this to these people?"

"Like some cracked out Jack-the-Ripper?" Jack raised his brows. "Doubtful. But when you rule out animal attacks, I guess you've gotta take that into consideration. If it's a person that's killing these people, it's not someone from here. They'd have to have a damn good hiding place, to boot."

"Thanks," Dean nodded to him and opened the freezer just as Jack closed the door. "Oh this is gonna be just awesome," Dean grimaced as he pulled out the first tub.

"Dude, you made me Angelina? Really?" Sam scoffed.

"What?" Dean shrugged innocently. "You're hair is almost dead-on."

"You're a jerk."

"Can we look at this crap and get the hell outta here?"

Sam sighed and opened the first tub as Dean pulled out the second. "Oh geez..." Sam grimaced. "Yeah...I can see how they're having a hard time ID-ing this guy."

"Holy crap, dude, you ain't kidding," Dean said as he looked into the bin.

"Looks...looks like an animal attack," Sam swallowed as he tried to cover his nose and mouth with one hand. "There was nothing used to tie his wrists or anything. Nothing that would've restrained him."

"Could've been dead before he started getting tore-up."

"Yeah. But I doubt it. I'm thinking that whatever did this wasn't human."

"Any idea what it could be, then? What kinda monster kills for sport like this and doesn't use the remains for somethin'?"

"Demon. Bloodhound. Someone might've made a deal..."

"I don't smell any sulfur, and I've never seen them do this much damage. This much damage is...not necessary."

"Daevas..."

Sam looked over at his brother, then. "That'd mean we have a witch on our hands. Or a demon, I guess. If they know we're in town..."

"We're basically screwed without our stuff."

"We'll need to lay low for a while. Maybe even tell the coroner we're leaving. Check into a different hotel..."

"This place is too small to lay low in, dude. We'd have to camp out somewhere where people wouldn't see us, and we are so not prepared for any of this. Plus we've gotta wait for our stuff to get here, anyway. We need a better plan."

"As long as we don't go poking around anymore until we get the stuff we need, we should be okay," Sam replied after thinking for a moment. "We tell the coroner we're sending for some equipment and will be going out within the week to observe the wildlife with some animal behavior expert."

Dean let out a breathy laugh. "Who are we gonna find to play that role?"

After a moment they both replied, "Garth..."

*~.~*

"Dude, my back is killin' me from tackling that douchebag at LAX," Dean said as they got out of the rental car at their hotel. "Think I hit the table funny or something. It's really starting to hurt."

Sam only half heard him as his chest started fluttering again out of nowhere. "There's uh...there's some pain killers in my bag," he told him as they approached the door. "Some muscle relaxants in the first-aid kit."

"Sammy? You okay, man? You don't look so good." Sam met Dean's eyes as Dean opened their door to the room. Sam's face was a bit pale, which wasn't exactly a surprise lately, with the trials kicking his ass. "Hey! Whoa whoa whoa!" Dean grabbed hold of his brother just as his knees started to give out. "Sam!" he pulled him into the room and led him over to the bed before turning to shut the door to keep out the cold. He was back at his side within a single breath, hovering over him with concern etched in his face. "Sammy, talk to me, man. What's going on?"

"I just..." he breathed, panted almost, as if he'd just returned from a long run. "I dunno. Room started to go white."

"You're freezing. You know I was kidding, man, you could've asked for my coat," he said as he moved his brother more properly onto the bed and began wrapping him up in the blankets. "You shoulda said something."

"I's not the cold, De'. I dunno what... My chest feels funny. Heart's doing weird flippy things."

Sam watched as Dean's face lost some of its color and the worry etched into fear. Dean's head went to Sam's chest, pressing an ear to his brother's heart. What he heard...well he was no doctor, but he knew that whatever Sam's heart was doing right then, was in no way normal. "S-Sam..." he pulled his head up. "Dude, we need to get you to a doctor. Like right now."

"Dean!" Sam shouted as he watched a shadowy figure slink over the both of them. Dean started to turn, but felt a hard hit to the back of his head, and then there was nothing...

*~.~*

"Dean..." Dean heard the echoing sound of his brother's voice from somewhere. He tried to open his eyes, but coming out of this fog of unconsciousness was like swimming up through pudding. "Dean..." he heard him again, and heard the pained breathing along with it. Somehow that sound pulled him out faster.

"S-Sammy?" Dean looked up at the bright night sky lit up with aurora borealis.

"'s pretty," Sam said weakly where he lay beside him.

Dean turned his head to look at his brother who stared up into the sky. His skin was white and covered with crystals of frozen sweat. He wasn't shivering. "Sam..."

"I can feel it getting slower," Sam said quietly.

"What?"

"I know why you threw it away, Dean," Sam said. "I know it wasn't 'cause of me. It was 'cause of God. 'cause of everything we found out. I didn't know then, but since the trials...things started making sense."

"Sammy, what're you talking about?" Dean tried to get up, but the pain in his back flared ten-fold, and he barely swallowed the cry.

"The amulet," Sam replied. Then he looked over at Dean. "I can feel it slowing down."

"Feel what, Sam? We need to get outta...wherever we are. We need to get someplace warm."

"My heart, Dean," Sam told him. "It's why I've been feeling weird lately."

"Your... Why didn't you tell me about this before?" Dean gruffed out, though it was hard to raise his voice much at all in this state.

"Didn't think much of it at the time," Sam might've shrugged. "It's okay. It's okay, Dean. I can't really feel anything anymore."

"Sam..." Dean's voice shook as he tried to search around them for something—anything; a way out of there, a sign of possible help. "Gonna get us outta here, little brother," he told him. "Even if I gotta carry you."

"You can't, Dean. You can't even get up. Even if you could, it's too far."

"We can't just give up, Sam!"

"It's not...we're not giving up. We're letting go. It's okay, Dean. Look. Look at what we get to see before we fall asleep," he turned his gaze back up to the sky.

Dean stared at his brother for a long moment before looking up at the lights again, a tear dropping from the outer corner of his eye and freezing there. "Sam...we can't..."

"Yeah we can," Sam's hand somehow found Dean's and held on. Dean could barely feel it, he realized, but he closed his fingers around Sam's as much as he could. "We just...we just go to sleep, Dean. And if we're lucky, we wake up in Heaven. If we're not...well, someone brings us back and we end up back here, don't we?" Sam turned his head to look at Dean again, and Dean turned to look at Sam. Sam's eyes were filled with something Dean couldn't quite interpret, but he was smiling at him and his breaths were shortening with every passing second. "I love you, De..." he told him. Then his eyes closed.

"Sam?" Dean's voice shook and he received no reply. "Sammy?" his face pinched as he watched his brother's final breaths. "Sammy, I love you, too... Sam?" And Sam had stopped. Everything had stopped. And Dean's whole world burst in his chest as he cried out into the empty sky.

His breath came quick and hard with tears that wouldn't pass the corners of his eyes, stopped up from the cold that had paralyzed them both. After a long moment, Dean allowed himself to let go. He allowed himself to relax and look back to his brother one last time.

"Goodnight, Sammy," he told him, then closed his eyes...

*~.~*

End. (Please note that each chapter will be continued from KAZ'S chapters, not mine. In other words, Sam and Dean did not die in Kaz's chapter 2, therefore nothing from THIS chapter applies to my next chapter.)

**Prompts from which this chapter was created:  
**

**For my prompt have the trials start affecting Sam's heart and Dean doesnt realise it til it starts showing in Sam's performance and Dean goes into hyper-worry mode.**

**My prompt: Sam gets hurt badly in season nine somehow and Ezekiel brings up the amulet and voicemail to Dean. Sam has been thinking about them a lot lately.**

**exhausted dean & sam, it's on the edge of dying (like so many time), it's freaking cold, in the middle of the night. Sam already dozed off to. .. (whatever) dean is ready to give up on life with his little brother, leaving everything behind. "good night, sammy" ...**

**My Prompt Is where Dean is seriously hurt. But he doesn't realize because he's making sure Sam is alright.**

**My prompt is that they have a difficult time finding Sam the warm clothes and shoes he will need for the harsh conditions in Alaska. They have to be special ordered. That delays them starting the hunt. Sam feels guilty about the delay and while they wait he gets very creative to try to find a solution to the problem. **

**they would have to change planes from Kansas to Alaska so I'd like to see a stopover in Los Angeles and see what sort of trouble Dean could get into there ( maybe rescuing a model from an attack so the attacker goes after Sam)**


	2. Chapter 3 (set right after DK's Ch2)

"**Chapter 3- Director's Cut" (Follows Disasteriffic Kaz's Reader's Special—4th Edition CHAPTER 2)**

**Note: Each director's cut chapter is a separate entity based solely on the previous chapter of 'Reader's Special – Fourth Edition' by Kaz. So for this to make sense, you've gotta go read chapter two of her story, then come check out this chapter. Just check out the top of the page on my chapters and make sure you're reading the one following hers. My chapters are basically 'alternate endings' based on prompts she couldn't use. **

*~.~*

"Here, Sam," George handed the shivering, drowned-rat version of Sam Winchester a three-quarters full 5th of Jack Daniels. "Won't actually make you warmer, but it'll make you _feel_ like you are. That and it'll calm your nerves a bit. It'll have to do until we get there."

Now that the motion-sickness pills were kicking in, Dean suddenly recalled hearing these words. A little dizzy from the cold and the empty, worn-out feeling that came with copious amounts of vomiting, Dean looked up from his hunched-over position to seek out his brother's whereabouts.

"Dean! Dean...Dean, you should have summa this," Sam said when he saw his brother look over at him.

"Ah geezus," Dean groaned at the over-all disheveled and obvious drunken state of Sam. "As if I didn't have enough to worry about with you."

"Dude...Dean, I'm fine, man. Jus' warmin' up. You should have some. Warms you up."

"You're such a lightweight, Sam," Dean shook his head and took the bottle, tossing it to the other side of him out of Sam's reach. "I don't think Jack is gonna be the best thing for me after throwing up my liver, here.

"Oh yeah," Sam's face grew concerned, momentarily. "You feel any better?"

"That or my body ran outta stuff to expel," he replied. "How about you? I mean...clearly you're feeling better."

"I don't like this boat," he said in all seriousness.

"Well, shouldn't be too much longer, I'm guessin'. We gotta be halfway there by now."

Sam noticed Dean's teeth chattering before he even registered hearing it. They were both still in damp, cold clothes, nothing on the boat for them to change into, and had some emergency blankets wrapped insufficiently around them. Sam couldn't figure out when he'd moved to the other side of the room.

He pushed up off of the cot and headed toward his brother. "Dude, you're freezing," he said as he slowly wobbled forward. "If you're not gonna drink, at least let's share some body heat or somethin'..."

This boat chose that moment to lurch, evidently being hit by a huge wave from the storm, and sent Sam stumbling head-first into the hull. Dean heard the crack and it put his nerve-endings on full-alert.

"Sam!" he pushed up to stand and grab him before Sam could fall over.

"Ow!" Sam's face scrunched up as his hand grabbed where his head hit the wall.

Dean pulled him back over to the cot and made him lie down. "You okay? Friggin' heard your brain shake loose, dude."

Sam laughed, though his eyes remained closed a moment longer. "I felt it. Must not be as drunk as you think I am. Ow..."

"Yeah yeah...You probably have a concussion, idiot. Who's the president of Zimbabwe?"

"How do you know they have presidents there?"

"I...I dunno."

"Then how'd you know if I answered wrong?"

"Google?"

"They've had the same president since like 1987."

"Fine, smart ass, who's the CEO of Apple?"

"Uh...Tim Cook. But that's not a good concussion question either, because he took over way before Steve Jobs died."

"When's my birthday?" Dean asked through gritted teeth.

"Next month," Sam replied. "January 24th. Whaddya want for your birthday, De'? I wanna get you something cool this year."

"How about you get me an un-concussed brother, and we'll call it even."

"Even?"

"Yeah. I can't tell if you're concussed or just drunk."

"Probably both."

"That's what I'm thinkin'," Dean replied, then was surprised when his lungs suddenly protested air and threw him into a coughing fit that rivaled Sam's from earlier.

Sam watched with growing concern, knowing what it felt like to be in the middle of a spell like that. Subconsciously, his hand reached out to lay upon Dean's arm as if lending what strength he had. Thankfully it didn't last very long at all. "Are you okay, De? You getting sick already on me?"

"Shut up, Sam," Dean said with a raspy voice, sore from coughing. "Just had a little seawater in me, I think."

"Okay," Sam let his arm drop lazily back down on the cot. A few long, silent moments passed, and then he spoke again. "Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I just realized...this hunt is gonna suck."

"Keeps goin' like this, then hell yeah it is," Dean snorted a laugh. "But hey, with any luck, this is just gettin' the bad luck outta the way at the start, and it's just smooth-sailin' from here on out."

"Since when do we get lucky?" Sam half-grinned.

"I dunno about you, Sam, but I fully intend on getting lucky on the island," he waggled his brows at him. "I hear there's this little bar there, and the population is real low, so you know...odds of there being much competition are slim to none, right?"

Sam laughed again, hand shooting to his head to hold it through the pain the laughter caused. "Dude...your balls have likely recessed into your body from the cold, and you're still thinking about getting laid. I...I dunno whether I should be impressed...or just...sad for you."

"Hey! How the hell do you know where my balls are or are not, huh? Or are you just trying to tell me that's what's happened to yours?"

"I'm going to sleep, dude. Worry about your own junk, okay? I've got mine under control."

"Yeah sure you do. Hey...hey maybe you shouldn't go to sleep just yet."

"It's fine. That 'no going to sleep with a concussion' rule got kicked out recently. Just wake me up when we dock. Let me sleep. My head is killing me..."

*~.~*

Two long, hot showers and a good six hours of sleep later, the boys were downstairs in the dining area of the bed & breakfast run by, none other than George's mother, whom they'd taken to called 'Mrs. B'. Now, with George being, as Dean liked to call it, 'up their ass' since getting to land, the brothers had been trying to come up with way to convince George to leave them to the hunt. The guy was relentless, though, and the only way Dean could think of was to just flat out threaten him, and seeing as he was kinda their only way back outta this place outside of flying, that didn't seem like the best idea.

"Mom fixed you both a slice of her famous sweet potato Christmas pie," George said as he set the plates down in front of each of them. "Well, I use the term 'famous' loosely, on account of there aren't that many people here to know about it," he shyly grinned. "But everyone here knows about it and loves it, so I guess it's Umnak-famous. Best pie ever."

"I'll be the judge of that," Dean said as he picked up the fork that laid beside his slice.

Sam, however, beat him to it. Halfway through chewing his first mouthful, Sam made a sound that peculiarly reminded Dean of a time he'd accidentally overheard a very private, special moment his younger brother was having in the shower a few years back. "Oh my...god," Sam groaned. "This is the best pie I...no, wait, it's possibly the best _thing _I've ever tasted in the history of ever," he corrected as he shoveled another forkful into his mouth. "Mmm..." Sam groaned appreciatively again.

"Geezus, dude, would you calm down?" Dean looked at him incredulously. "You're givin' me some awkward wood over here, for god's sake."

"Dude, just try it," Sam said, ignoring the comment as he continued to devour the dessert.

Dean shook his head as if to clear it, and decidedly shoved his focus onto his plate before digging in. "Holy...oh my god," Dean agreed as he allowed the flavors to absorb over his tongue.

"Right?" Sam exclaimed.

"I'll let Mom know you like it," George smiled. "So...you guys heading out after this? I've got a sled and dogs ready. We can leave whenever you want."

"About that..." Dean began.

"You have a dogsled?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," George smiled. "The dogs are all fed and ready to go."

"Dude," Dean interjected. "We can't let you risk your life."

"Why not?" George furrowed his brows. "Isn't that what you two do all the time? Why is it okay for you and not for me?"

"Because you have a life, George, and this crap is ours to deal with."

"Really? I have a life?" George retorted. "My girlfriend was killed by some...some monster out there, and I'm stuck here running a bed & breakfast with my mother on an island with anywhere between 30 and 50 people depending on drilling jobs at any given time. I don't _have_ a life."

"But you've got an option to have one," Dean countered.

"And if I choose to live it helping to kill the thing that destroyed the life I really wanted?" George asked, seriousness written on his face like a book now. Sam and Dean looked at him silently for a moment, not breaking eye contact as they let his words sink in. "Come on, guys... This is why people get into the business in the first place, right?"

"You ain't getting into the business, George," Dean pointed at him with his fork as he spoke. "If we let you tag along on this, this is it, got me? This is all you do. There is no going off to hunt other monsters." He could feel Sam looking at the side of his face. "We don't even know what we're hunting yet. You could end up dead. You think your mother is gonna make any more pie if you end up dead?" he raised a brow.

"If I survive, I'll express ship you pie wherever and whenever you want until the end of time," George stated.

"Deal," they both replied, then glanced at each other for a moment. Sam's eye twitched as though he was conflicted about agreeing to this...ultimately for the pie.

Within half an hour they were up and out the door, bundled up in an amount of layers that was ridiculous even for the Winchesters. Dean was less impressed with the dogsled than he'd originally imagined, and with all the running around they'd been doing, it so far seemed to be getting them nowhere closer to knowing what they were after. Seeing as they only had about five and a half hours worth of daylight to work with, it began to look as though gathering information safely was going to take more days than they'd originally estimated.

Dean had opted for them to have a later lunchtime so that they could get as much done before sunset as possible. After speaking with a few locals, and Sam being hit on by every female they came into contact with, Dean called the workday over around two. If he was gonna pick up a chick, he could at least do it in a bar.

"We've got another hour or so of daylight, Dean," Sam argued.

"And we've got bupkis to go on," Dean retorted. "We find anything at all today, we'll be working through nightfall to get anything done. That sound like a good plan to you? I mean, aside from the fact that most of the really bad crap happens in the dark, it's gonna be colder than it already is right now. You wanna keep going, or can we go get some lunch and a few beers?"

Sam made a face that was a mixture of consideration and impatience. Right before Dean could argue further, Sam's phone rang. Sam's attention was immediately drawn to the sound as he fished his cell from his pocket at looked bewilderingly at the ID. He waved off Dean, who grinned satisfyingly before turning toward the diner/bar, as Sam answered the phone.

"Hey, Garth. What's up?" Sam asked.

"_Dude, it took some major cash, but I did it. She should be there in like half an hour, they said."_

"Whoa whoa whoa...she? What're you talking about?" Sam asked incredulously.

"_You called me up last night, man, remember? Told me you wanted the Impala shipped over to you as a surprise for Dean."_

"Oh my god..."

"_Are you kidding me right now?" _Garth nearly screeched on the other line. _"You were drunk! I knew it! You promised me you weren't drunk! You idjit! Do you know how hard it was to get this toge-"_

"No no it's okay, man," Sam stopped him. "It's fine. It's...it's good. It's great, thank you. Dean hates the dogsled. So uh...where do I pick her up at?"

"_Same port you docked at,"_ he replied. _"You owe me six hundred bucks, dude."_

"Six hundred?! What?"

"_Extra protection and safe travel, plus expedited shipping? Yeah, man, it's pricey as hell."_

Sam sighed. "Fine. Okay. Damnit... Alright, thanks, Garth." He ended the call and took a breath as he looked at the resting dogs by their sled. He contemplated the predicament carefully. Other than being out six hundred bucks, and possibly twice that after getting back again, Dean would probably be ecstatic to have the car here. Sam just wished he could remember having made a phone call last night. Or for that matter, if he'd done anything else ridiculous...

*~.~*

"I'll take the lunch special, darlin'," Dean put on his best smolder face and winked at the waitress as she set his previously ordered beer in front of him on the bar. The waitresses acknowledged him, but she was now gazing fondly over at the door. Dean furrowed his brows for a moment before casually turning his head to see what she was looking at.

"Hey, Dean," Sam waved slightly from the door once he spotted his brother and headed over to sit next to him.

Dean looked back at the waitress in time to see her smile at Sam before quickly shouting, "Special!" to the cook without looking away from him. Then she sauntered back over to where Sam sat. "What can I get for _you_?" she asked without even attempting to hide the flirtatiousness behind it.

"Uh," Sam thought for a moment, completely oblivious to the woman's attempts. "I'll have what he's having," he said shortly, then grabbed Dean's beer. "And he'll need another one of these," he told her as he took a long drink from the bottle.

"Hey!" Dean protested.

"Sorry," Sam replied. "Thirsty."

Dean softly growled before turning in his seat. "So who called?"

"Oh uh...just Garth. Had him...um...check on something for me. Turned out to be a dead end."

"Hey, sugar," the waitress was back in front of Sam, leaning a bit forward on the bar as she spoke, setting Dean's beer down in front of him without so much as glancing at the older brother. "You want a slice of cherry pie after you're done with lunch?" she asked seductively.

"Ya know what?" Dean chimed in. "We're gonna go ahead and take our orders to go, thanks," he told her.

The girl huffed and walked away to get there food put into containers, and Sam looked at Dean in question. "Dude, we just got in from the cold. You know our food is gonna be ice by the time we get ba-"

"We've got a microwave," Dean interjected, annoyed.

*~.~*

Dean stalked into their motel room, throwing off his coat before angrily sitting down in one of the chairs at the little table closest to the door.

"What is with you, Dean?" Sam shook his head.

"I'll tell you what's with me," he replied. "It's cold. This place is cold and it's stupid and I'm invisible to the chicks that live here." Sam tried to hide a smile. "The dogsled is stupid. I miss my baby. I miss the heater in my baby," he whined as Sam turned to put their food in the microwave. He didn't have to hide his smile then. "This case is stupid. Probably nothing even here and we're wasting out time."

"You're just pissed off, Dean," Sam said as the microwave whirred. "There's something here. We just gotta find it, kill it, and get the hell outta Dodge."

"Damn straight," Dean nodded. Then he coughed. He coughed enough for Sam to turn around and see if he was okay. Dean was holding his chest as he bent over a bit in the chair seemingly in pain. "Damn, man...Friggin' cold weather is not workin' for me."

"You probably went and got yourself a cold," Sam said as he brought Dean's food to the table.

"No crap," Dean replied. "Why aren't you eating?" he asked when he saw Sam's food still on the counter.

"I've gotta run back out real quick," he told him. "Got a surprise for you. And now I guess I gotta pick you up some meds."

"As if you need to go out and get sick, too. And if it ain't a boat ticket back home, I doubt there's anything you can surprise me with."

"Just trust me," Sam smiled. "In fact," he said after thinking for a moment, "Finish your lunch and meet me by the dock. I'll have George come back for you. Should be ready by then."

"Holy crap, is it a boat ticket home?" Dean's eyes brightened.

Sam laughed. "Even better."

*~.~*

Dean had to admit, he was excited. He was sure they weren't going home yet, but whatever Sam considered a surprise, he was pretty psyched up for it.

Thankfully, for the short trip to the dock, they could take George's truck instead of the dreaded dogsled. George, however, made the trip slightly annoying with all of his questions about why they were going to the dock and was it part of the case and yada yada yada. Dean wasn't sure why George hadn't been let it on the surprise, but he should've at least know that it meant Dean had no idea what they were going to the dock for.

Once they pulled in toward the dock, a man trussed up in a big, thick coat waved them down to stop.

"What's goin' on, Eddy?" George asked as he rolled the window down, the rush of cold air making Dean shake.

"Accident at the dock," he replied. "Boat hit the damn supports and cracked the hull. Shipment went into the water and they've got a rig set up to pull it out."

"Anyone hurt?" Dean asked, worry consuming him now.

"No, sir," he replied. "But uh...the kid that was here to pick up the shipment...he's pretty messed up about it. Says his brother's gonna kill him or hate him or something along those lines. He's in the mens room in the Trade building over here. Won't come out. You know him?"

"That's gotta be Sam," Dean said as he pushed out of the truck. "Take me to him!"

*~.~*

"Idiot...idiot," Sam said over and over like a mantra. "Everything you do gets screwed up. Everything you try to do turns to crap...Idiot," he said through the tears that streamed his cheeks, now.

Dean heard him as he approached the closed door. "Sam?" he called out. He heard his brother let out a sob at the sound of his voice, and Dean pushed his way into the bathroom to find Sam sitting on the floor against the wall beside the sink, knees pulled up to his chest, face wet and eyes red as they met his brother's. "Sammy?" Dean knelt down in front of him and put his hands on his shoulder and neck. "Talk to me, man. What's wrong? What happened?"

"You don't know," Sam sobbed, followed by sniffling as Dean's thumb swiped some of the tears from his brother's cheek as though seeing them there cause him to feel the pain himself. "You're gonna hate me. You're gonna be so mad...You're gonna hate me..."

"Sam, come on, man. I could never hate you. You gotta calm down, little brother. You're freakin' me out here. Just tell me. Tell me what happened."

"I...I called Garth last night when I...when I was drunk...and I didn't remember...and then I didn't care 'cause...I thought it'd be nice..." he spoke brokenly as his diaphragm involuntarily spasmed from the sobbing.

"Thought what would be nice, Sammy?" Dean asked. He thought about the accident. "What it something that was on that ship? Is that why you're so upset?"

Sam choked on another cry, though he was trying to calm himself down.

"Okay okay...calm down, man. What is it? What could possibly screw so bad with your head like this?"

"I...I thought... I wanted... You missed her. So I... We made it so... We got her shipped..."

"What?"

"The car..." Sam told him, then swallowed. "The boat hit the pier and...and the car...it...she's..." Sam watched as all the color drained from Dean's face. Sam pushed his arms up over his face and pressed into an even tighter ball, rocking slightly as his tears reignited. "I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry, Dean, I'm sorry..." he cried. "Please...I'm so sorry...Please don't hate me...please..."

Dean had been stunned for a moment over the news of his car, but the state his brother was in quickly snapped him out of it.

"Okay... Okay, Sammy, it's okay," he told him, trying to pull at Sam's arms. "Sammy, it's okay. I'd never hate you. I promise," he said, heart aching at how severely Sam was reacting to this. "I loved that car, Sam, yes. It was our home all our lives. We've been through thick and thin together, but Sam...it's a car. I'd never pick anything over you. Not even her. You know that, right? I love you, Sam. Sammy?" he tried to pushed Sam's hair from his face so he could see him. "Sam, it's okay."

"I'm so sorry," Sam said again, and Dean pulled him into his chest.

"I know you are. I know, Sam. It's okay," he told him, stroking a hand over his brother's head. "It's gonna be okay. They'll get her out and we'll...well hell, Sam, she's been in worse shape, right? We'll get her back to warm weather and fix her up. You 'n me, brother. Okay? You'll help me, right?"

Sam nodded against Dean's chest, still shaking from the residual tears that had wracked his body.

*~.~*

They'd stayed to watch the Impala pulled from the freezing water and onto a new, undamaged ship to be taken back to where they'd originally left her. Garth was over there waiting to pick her up and take her someplace to dry out. Everything was set in motion, and not all was lost.

Yet Sam was still obviously upset and trying to be silent about it where he laid curled up under the blankets on his bed. Dean was decidedly sad about his car. But it wasn't gone. Just injured, really. If Dean was okay about it, Sam should be at least as calm.

Dean moved to Sam's bed and crawled in under the covers.

"What're you doing?" Sam asked quietly, voice cracking traitorously.

"Freakin' cold, man. You're like a personal furnace."

"Okay," he replied quietly. Dean had at least expected a smart ass comment. Dean was on his back, Sam curled away from him on his side. After a few moments, Sam said, "I'm sorry, Dean," in a whisper.

"Dude, I said it's okay. The car isn't lost, man. It's not your fault anyway."

"It's not just the car," Sam continued. "It's...everything I do," his voice was pinched and quiet.

Dean rolled onto his side facing Sam's back and threw an arm over Sam's. "What are you on about?"

"Everything I try to do that I think is...good. All my good intentions. They always end up going wrong."

"That ain't true," Dean replied. "We've both had some pretty epic fails, but we've had things turn out okay, too. Like...that Christmas when you made the tree outta pine fresheners, and made that awesome eggnog."

"That doesn't count."

"Why not? Making our weird lives a little less weird for the holidays is good," Dean argued. "God knows I tried to do that as much as I could back in the day. And you arranging for the car coming here? That was an awesome surprise, Sam. You didn't do anything wrong and you didn't mess it up. It's on them. They're even payin' us to not go to the news about it, so it's a win in my book." Sam huffed a small laugh, and Dean counted that as a win, too. "Get some sleep, kiddo. Got a lot of crap to get accomplished in a short amount of daylight tomorrow."

There were a few long moments of silence before Sam asked, "Are we gonna spoon all night?"

"Yes. Shut up. It's cold."

*~.~*

Dean woke up maybe four hours later with pain in his chest. He spent a good half an hour hacking up a lung as quietly as he could manage in the bathroom. He was sweating from the exertion, yet freezing as he wandered dizzily into the kitchenette for some water and cold meds. He made quick work of taking a handful of the stuff Sam had picked up before the dock, and climbed back into bed, curling up against the radiating heat that was the back of his brother.

Neither of them woke again until sunrise.

Dean took more meds before they headed back out with George on the sled. Right smack in the middle of the daylight, the sled hit something and sent Sam flying off to land in the snow. After seeing Sam wasn't hurt, Dean couldn't help but to laugh at him as he helped him up. One of the dogs started to whine.

That's when things started to get weird.

"You good, Sam?" Dean asked as he helped him to his feet.

"Yeah," Sam replied, catching his breath. "Think so. The dog get hurt?" he asked, looking over at the one that was whining and wiggling around oddly.

"No idea, dude," Dean said as he turned to the dog. "What's up your ass, Fido?" he asked the dog as he knelt down beside it looking it over for any obvious wounds. The dog whined again and looked at Dean with a titled head. "Don't look at me like I know what I'm doin' here," Dean shook his head. The dog whined again, looked off in the distance to Dean's left, then laid down in the snow placing his head on his paws. Dean looked over his shoulder and nearly toppled the rest of the way to the ground. "Whoa! Sam!" he warned when he saw the spirit standing there just a few feet from his brother. "9 o'clock, Sam! 9 o'clock!"

Sam jerked quickly, turning his body to the left and grabbing for his gun as he saw the spirit of the woman.

"Don't shoot!" George cried out. "Don't shoot her!"

"The hell you talkin' about?" Dean shouted.

"It's Missy!" he replied, taking a few steps toward her. "Please don't hurt her! It's Missy..."

"It ain't Missy anymore," Dean told him.

"I want to help you," the spirit of Missy told them.

Sam and Dean shared a skeptical glance. "Help us, huh?" Dean asked, looking back to the ghost. "How're you gonna do that?"

"I know how to find the monster you seek..."

"Why would you help us?" Dean asked.

"Because I can't rest until it's dead." 

"Great," Dean sighed, lowering his aimed weapon as Sam did. "Well, where to, then?"

"We can't go yet," she told them.

"Why the hell not?" Dean asked.

"You must go at dark, when it comes out from where it hides," she replied. "And you cannot go," she told Dean.

"Excuse me?" Dean's brows raised.

"Yeah uh..." Sam took a step forward, "Why can't Dean go?"

"Because if he goes, he will die," she told them.

"How the hell would you know that?" Dean questioned, getting aggravated now.

"You're sick. I don't know why I know, but I do," she replied. "The dog can see it, and so can I."

Both brother looked to the dog who was still laying on its paws staring up at Dean, and once Dean met its eyes, the dog whined again.

"W-what kind of sick?" Sam asked her, suddenly scared out of his mind. Sam had read about dogs sometimes being able to smell cancer... Cancer. His vision started to swim.

"I am not certain," she replied. "Only that it will be his ultimate demise if he goes into battle this night."

"Yeah right," Dean scoffed. "How do we know you're not just trying to delay us killin' this thing, huh? How do we know you aren't the monster, yourself?"

"I want you to kill the monster as soon as possible," she told them. "You don't need to be with them to kill it. You will kill it if you go tonight, but you will die from your sickness if you do."

"I don't understand," Sam shook his head.

"She wants to split us up, Sam," Dean told him. "She wants us scared and me stuck back in the room so the monster has better odds."

"Do whatever you wish!" she yelled. "Die, if that's what you want! All I need is for that thing to be dead! It means nothing to me if you go down with it!" The wind had picked up with her angered words, and it shut them all up for a moment. Then she continued more calmly. "I am not your enemy. I don't wish for anyone else to end up hurt or dead. If I was selfish, I wouldn't have come out to warn you."

"Can you stop it?" Sam asked her. "The monster, I mean. It didn't attack last night. Did you have something to do with that?"

"My presence fools it," she told him. "It comes for me. But I don't know how much longer it will be fooled. I may be able to delay it another night. Then maybe you can help him, and then kill the creature."

"We've gotta know what it is, first," Sam told her. "Do you know?"

Her face became thoughtful and contemplative for a moment, trying to gather the right words. "I don't know what it is," she replied finally. "But...it is the shadows," she told them, and her body began to flicker. "It takes us..." Then she was gone.

"Awesome," Dean said sarcastically. "So that was helpful."

"Actually, it might've been," Sam replied, then looked to him. "We should get back to the hotel. I need to do some research. And uh...we need to get you to a hospital or something."

"Like hell," Dean scoffed and turned to George who was still standing there in disbelief, staring at the space where Missy had been standing. "George? Dude? You okay?"

"Uh," he shook his head as if to clear it. "Yeah. Um... Yeah."

"We good to get the hell outta here now?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we're...we're good to go..."

*~.~*

Dean had refused a hospital, mainly because he'd need to leave the island to get to one. But halfway back to the B&B, he was coughing again, curling in on himself against the pain in his chest at doing so. Sam had an arm secured around him to keep him in place on the sled, urging George to get the dogs to go faster. At one point, they almost hit a moose, and Dean had seen it as it trotted off to their right.

"Hey, Sam...'s your girlfriend," he grinned, though his face looked ashen, either from the cold or whatever this sickness was that was in him, Sam couldn't tell.

"Jerk," Sam said with a small laugh, though his heart was racing in fear for his brother as they continued toward their destination.

Once they got Dean in the front door, George was hovering over to his mother, telling her to get the doctor over immediately. All Sam could think to do in the moment was get his brother up to their room and get him warmed up.

Dean felt like ass. So much so that he let Sam lead him to the room, get him out of the clothes he'd worn out on the scouting trip, and put him into warm, dry, comfortable clothes. He then bundled him up in a blanket and had him laying on his side as he felt his forehead.

"You're burning up, Dean?" Sam's voice shook, and it made Dean look up at him to see how freaked out he actually was. "You think she...she gave you some kinda sickness? You think she really was the monster and it made you sick?"

"Nu uh," Dean was surprised by the rasp in his own voice.

"But you weren't sick before we went out!" Sam argued.

"Yeah...yeah I was, Sammy," Dean countered.

"What?"

"Was sick in the night," he confessed. "Was coughing. You were sleeping. My chest hurt. Didn't think much of it when I felt okay today. Thought it was just a cold..."

"Well obviously it's much worse...Damnit, Dean...Why didn't you tell me?"

"Sam..."

"She said you'd have died tonight! Died, Dean!" Sam was standing now, pacing a square foot of space with his words. "What if it doesn't matter if you go on the hunt or not? What am I supposed to do? What...what..." Sam was panicking and Dean couldn't even bring himself to sit up and get him under control.

"Sammy...Sam, 'm sorry. Please..." His voice sounded so pathetic, that Sam was stopped in his tracks to look down at him. "'m sorry, Sam. Please don't freak out. I'm okay. 'm gonna be fine, okay? I'll be fine."

Sam sunk back down onto the side of the bed beside his brother and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Yeah. Okay. A doctor is coming to see you. You'll be okay. You'll be fine..." Neither of them was sure whom he was trying to convince more...

*~.~*

**END**.

_**(Even I know how bastardous this was. Sorry, guys. ROFL)**_

**Prompts: maybe something on the boat makes Sam fall & get concussed**

**maybe get Sam drunk or something because he's trying to dull the effects the ocean is having on him**

***** for my prompt I was hoping i could see the ghost of Missy, who decided to help the brothers to solve the case so she could be put to rest.**

**I'd like to see some more consequences of Dean getting dunked.**

**maybe George's mother runs an excellent bed and breakfast and they put up with his fanboy ways because she makes such good pie that even Sam finds it practically orgasmic.**

**maybe they see a moose or two next chapter?**

**I would really like to see the boys check out a bar in the town when they get there, and see Dean try to get back on his game but have no luck when all the girls still swoon for Sam.**

**can you try to include Dean thinking that a sled dog or husky is acting like a human and understands him, so a lot of head tilting, whining, nudging with its nose to warn Dean about something or that Sam is injured.**

**Sam wrecks the Impala and gets hurts. He also thinks it's going to be one more thing Dean's disappointed in him for.**


	3. Chapter 4 (set right after DK's Ch3)

Director's Cut – Chapter...hell I don't even know what's going on now. But it **follows Disasteriffic Kaz's Reader's Special Fourth Edition chapter 3**. Right? I think that's...yeah that's right. That'd make this DC #3, because reasons.

Author's Note: You guys are killin' me. LOL.

*~.~*

Dean is freaking out. He's at the CAT with a possibly-having-a-heart-attack George, trying to get the damn thing to start, and of _course_ it's giving him a hard time. Sam is sitting in the snow with a bleeding wound, and all he has to protect himself is a rock salt filled shot gun and a puppy. And Dean can't get the sonofabitch CAT to start. He picks up the CB radio mic and shouts in it for help.

Meanwhile, Sam is slowly slipping into dangerous territory, mentally. The puppy is sitting at his side, staring up at him with big blue, sympathetic eyes, whining slightly. Sam tries to avoid looking at the bear trap that's got his leg. He just wants to pass out, but he's afraid something will happen; something will head Dean's way and he won't be able to yell for help.

The puppy started growling and barking again, standing and looking out in the distance. For a moment, Sam ignores it, but then looks over to where the puppy's attention had been pulled, hoping to see Dean returning for him. Instead...he sees a bear. "You've gotta be kidding me," Sam sighs. He laid down all the way, then. Playing dead should ensure the bear would leave him alone, but the damn puppy...well, the puppy was drawing attention to itself. As much as he hated to see the poor thing get killed, he was in no position to try and save it. Ultimately, this conflicted him almost to the point of tears, and he wished like hell that Dean would get back in time to save them both.

"Oh Sam," a voice sounded beside him and he opened his eyes.

"Missy!" Sam gasped and cursed this ridiculous series of unfortunate events.

"You've been abandoned; left to die...Just like me," she said with sympathetic eyes.

"No," Sam shook his head. "My brother's coming back for me."

"That's what I thought, too," she said sadly. Sam couldn't help but to see the slight resemblance to Jess. "Who would leave someone they love? Who would leave them to die? Yet that's exactly what happened. You've been left behind...just like me."

"No. Dean wouldn't do that," Sam's breath picked up as he looked around him for his shot gun he'd carelessly let go of. He realized that the bear was heading away from them now, apparently scared off by the ghost.

"Yet here you are, all alone," Missy continued. "Bleeding and cold and he left you with what? A little dog? I could kill you right now, you know. You'd be dead and I'd be gone before he even knew what happened."

"Then why don't you?" Sam asked as he found and gripped the gun.

"Because...you're just like me, now," she replied sadly. "You'll die anyway. But I'll stay with you so you're not alone like I was." Then, unexpectedly, she let out a scream as her body burst into embers and disappeared. In her place stood a familiar face.

"Hello, Sam," she said.

"Gracie?" Sam said with an incredulous look on her face. "H-how the h-hell...W-why would you be..."

"Calm yourself, Rainman," she said as she knelt down beside him and easily removed the trap from his leg, earning a hearty shout of pain from the younger Winchester. "Suck it up, soldier," she told him. "We've got work to do, after all." She shucked off her scarf and tied it tightly around Sam's wound.

"Y-you're not...Gracie...are you," he surmised.

"Just borrowing her meat suit, Sammy boy," she replied. "She was involved in a hit and run. Died on impact. Wasn't me," she held up her hands in a show of innocence as she coolly continued. "My other suit doesn't do well with freezing temperatures."

"Meg?" his eyes widened in surprise.

"Give 'im a prize, Alex," she grinned as she helped him up. "Found the lady's other limb and burned it. Just in time, it seems."

"How'd you know...w-where to find us?" he asked, the cold and blood loss starting to overwhelm him.

"I've been following you, actually," she replied as she threw his arm over her shoulders. "You good to walk?"

"Following? Why?"

"I need the help of you and your midget brother," she told him. "But it looks like I'll have to earn the favor, first. Where the hell is he, anyway?"

"You've been following us," Sam replied weakly. "How come you don't know?"

That's when they heard the sound of trampling coming up behind them in the distance. Meg and Sam turned, Sam hopping as they did so to keep his injured leg from carrying any weight. There in front of them now approached a dogsled led by a team of husky's looking very much like the little pup that had gotten lucky enough to escape death just moments earlier. On the sled Sam saw his brother, George and another man he hadn't yet met.

"Sam!" Dean shouted and jumped from the sled before it even stopped, making his way quickly toward them. "Sam, you okay? Who is... Is that...the chick from the border? What the hell?"

"It's actually Meg," Sam replied. Dean's eyes widened and he reached for his weapon.

"Calm down, cowboy," Meg said calmly.

"She's helping, Dean," Sam vouched. "She got the trap off," he added.

"We better get your brother back to someplace warm," she told him. "Your ghost problem is taken care of, so you can focus on not dying now so you can help me with something."

"Ghost problem? Lady, that was a side-gig," Dean told her. "We've got bigger problems than that."

"Are any of them bigger than Sam's life?" she asked with a raised brow.

Dean clenched his jaw for a moment, then moved to help her get Sam to the sled...

*~.~*

The journey back seemed endless, and Sam was curled up as well as he could be, not looking at all like his normal, healthy self. Not that that said much, since he'd been looking sickly from the trials to begin with. Now, however, he was looking a little more than death, and a little worse than the previous night when he'd been sick with fever.

Dean couldn't get a good breath in. Not until they got back to their makeshift hotel room so that he could get a better look at the wound on Sam's leg.

Sam had passed out once hitting the bed, and Dean was kinda grateful that he wouldn't be conscious for the administrations. Cleansing, sewing up, bandaging, getting him warm.

"His fever is back," Dean said out loud, only half-way realizing somewhere in the back of his mind that there were other people in the room. "Maybe worse now. We need to get it down."

"I'll get the ice," Aunt Fay told him before ducking out.

"I'll grab some Tylenol," George stated. "Got some of the good kind with codeine in my glove compartment." He, too, ducked out.

"Too bad Clarence isn't around to save the day," Gracie-Meg said as she sank down to sit on the end of the bed, her small form fitting easily in the bottom bunk.

"The day doesn't need saving," Dean scowled. "This is just getting in the way of us finishing up here so we can help you with whatever it is you showed up for."

"While that's partly true, I don't like seeing you boys so down on your luck," she said with a calm smile.

Dean shook his head and huffed a near-silent laugh. "It's really weird how different you are, now."

"Life is weird," she cocked a brow playfully.

"Ours is, anyway," Dean looked back to his brother who began to stir. "Hey, buddy," he placed a hand on Sam's arm.

Sam opened his eyes and looked around, settling on his brother's face. "Wha' happened?" he asked sleepily.

"You passed out and I had to carry your gigantor ass in here, that's what," Dean replied. "Your fever is back, Sam," he said with more seriousness. "So we're holing up here for a while till you get better."

"But the hunt-"

"We've got some extra help. It'll be all good. Don't you worry about a thing except getting better."

"Don't want you t'be 'lone," Sam replied, pushing himself up a bit to sit instead of lay.

"Won't be alone, Sammy," Dean told him. "I've got winter-proof-Meg, here, and George. We can handle it."

Sam swallowed as he sat back against the wall and considered the situation. "I'll be fine," he insisted. "Just...let me get this fever down and I'll come with you."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Dean told him.

"He's right, Sammy-boy," Meg said as she watched the younger brother's gaze move toward the window. "You're not runnin' on all cylinders right now. You shouldn't push it."

"Sam? What is it?" Dean asked with a furrowed brow as he tried to see why Sam's eyes widened, looking out the window. His entire body tensed from whatever he saw. "Sam?"

"D-Dean..." Sam saw...well, he didn't want to admit to it, because he knew he was imagining it. But it still scared the crap out of him. A clown. Standing out in the snow, looking in the window with an eery grin and waving his hand.

"Sammy, what do you see?" Dean asked, but Sam put his hands over his eyes, ducking his chin into his chest. "Sam..."

"Hallucinating," Sam said simply. "You're right. I should stay here. I could get one of you killed."

"Ain't worried about that, Sam. I'm worried about you. Just...hang on a minute. We're gonna get some soup in you and some meds and you're gonna lay back down and sleep it off, okay?"

Sam nodded. The others came back, and Dean stayed with him until he finished his meal and downed his meds and curled up under the covers.

"Now, we're headin' out to get some supplies and get that CAT up an' runnin' again," Dean told him. "No hunt tonight, okay? Just prep work. We'll be okay, so don't lay here worrying all night. And you mind Aunt Fay. She'll be here to keep an eye on you an bring you stuff if you need it. I don't want you outta this bed, except to pee, got it?"

"'m not five, Dean," Sam grumbled.

"You are when you're sick. So just deal, 'cause this is the treatment until you're better. Then you can be a little bitch all you want."

"You're a jerk."

"You love me."

"Shut up."

"_You_ shut up. And go to sleep."

*~.~*

Sam did sleep. Maybe for all of an hour and a half, if that. It was dark when he opened his eyes. He was hot. Really hot. It was hard to breathe, how hot it was. The room spun as he pushed to get up out of the bed. If he'd been able to think, he'd have seen the note beside his bed on the nightstand, stuck under a little hand-bell that said, "Going to nap, dear. Ring if you need something. -Aunt Fay." But he didn't see it. He didn't see anything.

Suddenly he felt a familiar sick twinge in his gut and all he could think about was the pain of his brother being gone. Dean was gone. Dean disappeared when they killed Dick Roman, and he's gone and Sam can't find him. He's alone. He's alone and afraid and misses his brother like nothing else in the world matters.

And he's hot. He needed to get out of wherever he was and get some air. His mission soon turned to finding the outside...

*~.~*

"Come on, and shut your traps," Wilson told his buddies as they snuck into Aunt Fay's place, lights out and darkness only illuminated minutely by the brightness of the moon outside. "Probably sleeping," he whispered.

"This ain't a good idea," his friend said. "It ain't open, Wilson. We can get somethin' to eat later."

"I'll eat when I damn well please. I don't care if they're open or not."

"Well then let's grab somethin' and go," he replied. The three of them raided the kitchen, not noticing as Sam made his way blindly out the side door.

Sam felt the chill of the air once he got out the door, and it felt nice. The first thing he noticed, besides the snow, was the truck parked lopsided just a few feet away. In the back of the pick-up bed was a cage. Inside it, a wolf. Sam couldn't help but to feel a twinge of sympathy for the animal. It was so majestic looking. It shouldn't be in a cage. "You shouldn't be in a cage," he told it quietly. The wolf tilted his head at Sam's words. And Sam flipped the latch of the cage door and pushed it open, unafraid or maybe not even thinking about the fact that the thing could attack him after its freedom. But the wolf stood and walked out of the cage, looked up at Sam after it jumped to the ground, then turned and tore off in the distance. Sam felt a glimmer of something good swell in him.

"Well looky here," Wilson's voice sounded behind him. "What a fortunate surprise to see you here, and all by yourself. Seems like as good a time as any to have a _fair_ fight, instead of the one where you took me by surprise."

"Dude, he don't look right," his friend said, noticing Sam's swaying as he turned to look at them.

"Don't care what the hell he looks like. He ain't got that brother of his to fight his battles for him this time." He approached confidently, and his friends stepped forward with slight hesitancy.

Sam, though, wasn't prepared for a fight. Those words, _"He ain't got that brother of his..."_ rang and echoed through his skull. He didn't have Dean. Dean was gone. Dean could be...dead. He didn't need to fight back. He didn't want to. There was no point in staying around this life without his brother...

So he didn't fight back when hands reached out and pressed him into the snow. He just laid there on his stomach, resignedly feeling the blows and kicks as they reigned down on him...

"This is just too easy!" Wilson shouted.

"Hey!" Dean shouted as the truck hurriedly pulled up, and he was out and running toward them before it even stopped. "Get the hell away from him!" he pulled his shotgun out and fired, rocksalt hitting Wilson square in the chest.

"Holy shit!" one of the men yelled. "You shot him! You son of a bitch!"

"It's rock salt, asshat!" Dean told him. "But I got the real thing in my other one, and I'm just DYING to use it!"

"Please, mister! This wasn't part of our plan! Wilson...he's just still pissed about before-"

"I don't give a rat's ass what the hell any of you are! Get him and get the hell outta here before I put a bullet in every last one of you!"

They scrambled to drag Wilson up and get in their truck, Dean glaring them down as he knelt down beside his brother. The truck was speeding off before Sam picked his head up.

"Sammy?" Dean tried to help him to his back. But as soon as Sam met his eyes, Sam began to freak out.

"Who are you?" his voice squeaked as he scrambled away from Dean.

"The hell you mean 'who am I'?" Dean replied incredulously. "It's me!"

"You're not Dean," Sam's breaths were erratic, puffs of white clouds coming with each exhale. "Dean's gone. You're not my brother! He's gone!"

"What the hell is going on?" George said as he approached.

"Gotta be the fever," Dean replied. "Sammy, listen...You're sick, buddy, okay? I want you to think real hard about where you are right now and how you got here. We came here together, remember? I ain't gone. We went to fix the CAT, remember? Aunt Fay was watching you because you're too sick to be out here with us."

Sam looked confused and he shook his head. "You're not him. They try to trick me, but they can't fool me. You're not him. Dean's been gone since we killed the Leviathan...Dean's gone...Y-you're a...a shifter!"

Dean was taken aback for a moment, then shook his head as if to clear it. "Sammy...I was gone. But I'm not anymore. Remember? I got out. I got out with Benny and I came to find you," he said as he slowly approached him. "Don't you remember that? It's me, Sam, and I'd be more than happy to show you I ain't a shifter, but all the silver is in my bag, which happens to be inside, which is where I told you to stay until I got back."

"No," Sam shook his head, still breathing hard with panic. "Tell him to go get it," he told him, motioning to George with his head.

Dean let out a sigh. "Fine. We'll all freeze are asses out here while George goes to my bag to get the silver knife," he told him then looked to George, who nodded and hurried off inside. He turned back to Sam who still looked scared to hell, yet saddened as he looked at Dean unwaveringly. "Can't believe you think I'm a shifter," Dean said shaking his head with a slight, cautious smile. "Can't believe you don't remember getting here, although I suppose with the number of hits to the head, I shouldn't be all that surprised." Sam remained silent, swallowing as he listened to him speak. "We're on a hunt in Alaska, dude. How do you not remember this?"

"Dean would never agree to go to Alaska," Sam replied quietly.

"No such thing as never. 'cept maybe 'never _again_', which is definitely where on the list 'going to Alaska' is going after we get done with this damn hunt." Sam still didn't seem convinced. "People were dying, Sam. You made a convincing argument. I begrudgingly agreed. Is it really so hard to believe?"

"My brother taught me never to trust someone if your gut's telling you not to."

"Yeah, I did. I'm proud of you, Sam, but in this case, the longer we're out here, the sicker you're gonna end up. And don't take this the wrong way, but I'm not spending every two-hour reunion slicing an arm open to prove who I am."

"Here ya go," George said, out of breath as he returned with the knife.

"Watching?" Dean asked Sam as he shrugged an arm out of the thick coat and rolled up a sleeve. Then he sliced a gash with the silver blade and met Sam's eyes again. He watched Sam visibly sag with relief, before shrugging the coat back on. "Satisfied? Want me to eat some salt? Gonna say 'christo' and see if my eyes turn black? Any of tha-UMPH!" the air rushed out of him as Sam suddenly jumped onto him, winding arms and legs around him like an octopus, squeezing him and nearly sobbing as his fists grabbed handfuls of Dean's coat. "Whoa, there, little bro," Dean let out a surprised laugh and had no choice but to hug him back. "Let's uh...let's take this inside, okay?"

**Thheeeee eeeennnndddd of this chapterrrr.**

Seriously though, guys...killin' me. LOL If it seemed rushed, that's because it kinda WAS. It's hard to squeeze all that into one chapter and get it done and up within 24 hours of Kaz's. xD

Prompts (which are put in a different order in which I got them, so if it seems organizes, that's because it is, now. Lol) :

Prompt: border patrol officer Gracie finds the boys while she is out in the field on an investigation. She is excited that she gets to help Sam with his injured leg. She also turns out to be really useful to the hunt.

Prompt: Would love to see them run into a bear, at some point, that somewhat interferes with what they're doing.

Prompt: With the lingering fever and illness from the trials, Sam has a truly hellish nightmare involving memories from the earlier part of the year Dean was missing in purgatory. He wakes up believing that his brother is still missing. Dean has to convince Sam that he's actually there despite Sam's suspicions that something evil may be impersonating his brother. Can be one scene or spaced out as the main plot progresses. Paranoid Sam and brotherly bonding

Prompt: I would love for Sam to come face to face with his biggest fear - clowns and this causes him to faint or hallucinate. Dean doesn't make fun of him but saves it up for later.

Prompt: Sam sees something out in the snow that absolutely terrifies him and Dean thinks Sam hallucinated it but tries to calm him down nontheless.

Prompt: The guys Sam and Dean beat up catch one of the boys alone and decide to get revenge.

Prompt: Sam finds the guys from the bar they beat up with a caged wolf. He frees it but the guys capture Sam. Lots of hurt Sam with caring protective Dean and maybe George and aunt fay to help heal him and care for him.

Prompt: They have no choice but to take the dog with them and the dog becomes very protective of Sam and also enamored with Dean. Very smart dog. (If you've read the Dresden Files... a temple dog like mouse (and in the ends finds a home with someone nice) *i have no idea wtf you are talking about. hope whatever i end up using works. LOL*

Prompt: have Missy come back and sympathize with Sam as also being "left behind"- perhaps tries to convince him that he's been abandoned like she thinks she was. Maybe Dean coming back for Sam has a sort of cathartic effect on her and she's able to move on naturally?

Prompt: Missy somehow reminding him of Jess?

Prompt: After Missy has left, they try to get to the snow cat, but when they get to it, they realize that it's not working, and it can't be used. They are wondering what will they do now, when someone comes along that has a dog sled team and helps them.


	4. Chapter 5 (set right after DK's Ch4)

**Set right after DK's Chapter 4.**

***~.~***

"You boys sure you're feeling up to going out today?" Aunt Fay asked as Sam and Dean pulled their coats on over their layers of clothes.

"We've done a lot more, feelin' a lot worse," Dean told her truthfully.

"If you say so," she replied. "Well I suppose if you're going, you might as well take something with you to munch on. Here," she said as she began packing up some brownies into a paper bag. "I baked these from scratch this morning. I don't want you bringing back any leftovers, you hear?"

"I think we can manage that, right, Sammy?" Dean smirked at his brother as he took the bag. "Thanks, Aunt Fay," he told her.

"Yeah, thanks," Sam smiled at her.

"See you boys later on," she waved them goodbye.

*~.~*

"Man, I know I told Aunt Fay we were good to go, but are you really good to go?" Dean asked Sam as they headed up the path with George.

"I'm sore as hell, but yeah, I'm good, Dean. But are you?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno...maybe because you got the crap beat outta you last night. That and you haven't eaten any brownies yet," he smiled.

"Oh yeah! Forgot about those," he said as he swung his bag off his shoulder and fetched the paper bag of goodies. "And anyway, we're both on the good stuff. Gotta play through the pain and get this job done before one of us turns into a popsicle," he said before taking a bite of the brownie square. "Holy...oh man," Dean made an appreciative noise around a mouthful of the baked goods. "Sammy, man you gotta try one of these," he said as he stuffed the rest of his square into his mouth and reached into the bag to get another and hand it to his brother. "These are friggin' awesome. I might even go so far as to say I like them almost better than pie!"

Sam shook his head, but took a bite anyway. He wasn't disappointed. "Wow."

"Right?"

"Yeah, these are...wow. Actually...I think I might've had something like these before. Tastes a little familiar."

"Familiar tastes like frickin' rainbows, dude..."

*~.~*

Aunt Fay was tidying up the kitchen when she finally opened up the oven to put away some clean cookie sheets. Inside she found the brownies she'd baked the night before. Confused momentarily, she put the cookie sheets down on the stove and pulled out the pan of brownies, then looked over at the plate of leftover brownies on the counter top; the last ones left of the batch she'd given the Winchesters, and made a realization.

"Oh dear god," she covered her mouth. "George, you and your damn pot brownies!" she shouted, though no one was around to hear it. "I've said it before and I'll say it a thousand times! Don't leave those damn things out in the open!"

*~.~*

"Friggin' brownie-hog!" Dean scolded as they continued to hike. "Can't believe you finished 'em off. They were supposed to last the whole day. Since when are you a friggin' junk food addict?"

"I'm not. And shut up, Dean. I was hungry," he defended. Then he stopped in his tracks and bent down to pick up a handful of snow.

Dean hadn't realized his brother had stopped, for a good five seconds. He stopped and turned to see why, and ended up with a snowball hitting him square in the chest, followed by Sam doubling over with laughter.

"Seriously, Sam?" Dean replied. "You wanna play in the snow instead of killing a monster and saving lives? Really?"

"Sorry," Sam giggled and trotted to catch up. "Hey, Dean?"

"What?" he asked, brushing the snow from his coat.

"I didn't really eat all of them. Saved you a few," he smiled and handed the bag over.

Dean snatched it away and gave him a skeptical look before glancing into the bag to see he'd been telling the truth. He smiled. "Knew you weren't completely useless."

They continued on, and it got dark pretty quickly. The ground was shaking still from the volcano acting up, but George didn't say much about it, so they assumed it was normal.

"Hey," Sam tugged at Dean's sleeve. "I gotta pee."

"So pee," Dean replied. "Hey, George, hold up," he called out to their friend. "Alright, go on, man."

"I...I'm gonna go over to the trees," Sam replied.

"Don't freeze your junk off, dude," Dean called after him. He pulled the bag of brownies out of his pocket and started digging into them again. He kept watching Sam until he disappeared into the wooded area, as he chowed down on the remaining brownies. He saw George heading in his direction and decidedly shoved the rest of the treats in his mouth so it wouldn't seem like they'd been hiding their snack.

"Dean, I just got word on the radio," George said as he approached, and Dean desperately chewed up the contents of his mouth and tried to swallow it down. "There's a high probability the volcano is gonna erupt. They're evacuating the island. We need to go, man."

Dean finally got everything down. "You're joking, right?" he asked as he fished out his canteen.

"Afraid not. Good news is, maybe it'll take care of this thing for us."

"We can't leave, George."

"We have to. It's an order and we've gotta follow it. I've gotta go get Aunt Fay and get us on the boat and get the hell outta here. If you stay, there won't be anyone left to get you outta here."

"Damnit!" Dean cursed and looked toward the trees. "Sam!" he shouted. "Sammy! C'mon, man! We gotta get outta here!" There was no reply. "Shit," he cursed under his breath. "Just go on, George. We'll catch up."

"Are you gonna be able to find your way back?"

"I'll just follow our tracks, if nothin' else," he replied before heading quickly toward the wooded area he'd last seen Sam go into. George reluctantly headed back toward Aunt Fay's. "Damnit, Sam," Dean grumbled to himself. "Of all the times you gotta go missing... Sam!" he shouted again, now that he was a bit closer. Still no reply. Now he was worried, and he broke out into a run. "Sam!" he yelled out again.

"Dean?" he heard his voice in the distance, but it was far off to the left of where Dean had originally seen him go.

"Sammy?" he shouted and changed directions. He grabbed for his flashlight as the moonlight didn't hit as well under the trees.

"Dean!" Sam's voice sounded again.

"I'm comin' to you, Sam! Stay put!" he yelled, hoping he hadn't been caught and attacked by the thing they were after, bleeding alone somewhere in the dark, cold... But once he found his brother, he was standing amongst the trees just looking confused, until he saw Dean, of course. "Damnit, what the hell happened?" Dean asked, relieved but angry.

"I...got lost," Sam shook his head and smiled. "I thought I heard something, so I went to check it out and...next thing you know..." he started to laugh.

"Dude, what're you _high_?"

Sam laughed as he let the question sink into his head, and suddenly came to a startling realization. "Oh my god, Dean," he said, trying to sound my serious. "I think those brownies...were _special_ brownies..."

Dean made a face. "What do you mean, 'special b-'" and then he got it. "No friggin' way did Aunt Fay just Alice B Toklas us!"

Sam's laughter reignited. "I can't believe...you know who that is!"

"What? I know stuff about stuff that's interesting. Sue me. Now let's get the hell outta here before we freeze to death, or worse."

"Worse?"

"Yeah, island's being evacuated 'cause the damn volcano is threatening to erupt, so we need to haul ass."

"Holy crap," the smile on his face died a bit. "Okay. Which way?"

"Well _out_, for one," he said as he shined his flashlight through the wooded area. "Out of this damn dark wooded crap so I can get my bearings."

Sam giggled beside him as they began walking, his side all but plastered up against his brother. "Bearings. That's a funny word."

"You idiot," Dean replied, but he was smiling despite.

Without realizing it, they'd gotten turned around about a half dozen times before actually getting back out into the open. But Dean was just glad to be out and able to use the moonlight instead of the flashlight. "Finally!" he sighed. "Alright. Uh..." he looked around, not recognizing anything. "Everything looks like everything else..."

"Are we lost?" Sam asked. "Did you get us lost?"

"No I didn't get us lost, asshat," he rolled his eyes, and upon doing so, spotted the Northern Lights in the sky. "Whoa..."

"What?" Sam asked, then looked up where Dean was looking. "Oh. Aurora Borealis. Pretty cool, huh?"

"That can't be natural," Dean shook his head. "You think the thing we're after is causing this?"

"Uh..."

"Dude, it's creeping me the hell out."

"Oh my god," Sam stopped and doubled over with laughter.

"This isn't funny, Sam!" he shouted. "Get the...get the friggin' salt, man. We need the colt!"

**-End.**

**ROFL.**

**Alright. Here are the prompts I was given:**

**Prompt: I'd love to see the Northern Lights give Dean a clue to the puzzle. Either as a direction to go or as a link to the manifestation of the problem. He's not loving the long cold 'nights' and it would be fun to see him getting a kick out of the lights. Or become deeply suspicious of them... And Sam thinks he's nuts to be fixated on the lights.**

**Prompt: I would like Sammy to be not completely incapacitated by painkillers but maybe just a tiny bit loopy and he tries to start a snowball fight with Dean in spite of the gravity of the situation.**

**Prompt: events lead the brothers to be separated while the eruption gets worse, and suddenly the island needs to be evacuate. With Sam missing, Dean is forced to choose between follow the orders and leave or stay and search for his brother**


	5. Chapter 6 (set right after DK's Ch5)

**Director's Cut- Last chapter! Comes directly after Kaz's chapter 5.**

***~.~***

It's still cold. Not 'I'm gonna freeze to death and not be found for centuries' cold, but 'the pilot light went out and I lost my blanket' cold. Dean tried to at least be grateful for that much. But since it'd gone well past the two hours Father Maniitok told him he'd be back in.

Sam still hadn't woken up.

This is what had worried Dean the most. With everything that'd happened to Sam since the start of this damned hunt, it was almost enough for Dean to start looking for a misplaced cursed rabbit's foot. At least Sam still had both shoes.

Sam's face was tucked under Dean's chin, his warm breaths the one thing keeping Dean calm enough to keep waiting. Then he stirred, a waking sound coming from his throat.

"M..J'ss?" he slurred.

"What?" Dean wasn't sure what he'd said. "Sam, you okay?"

"Dean?" Sam started to push away, getting far enough to move his head to look up at him. "What the- Where's Jess? Where the hell are we?"

"Whoa whoa hang on there, little brother," Dean's hand came up from under the warmth of his coat he'd draped over them, to check Sam's head. "You musta messed your noggin' up good with that last fall."

"What fall? W-what..." Sam started to scramble away, the situation overwhelming, and was stopped by the pain that shot through him.

"Take it easy, Sammy! Calm down," Dean pulled him back over. "You gotta just stick with me, here, okay? It's too cold for you to freak out on me now."

Sam was still confused, but he trusted Dean, and after looking into the pleading green eyes, he decided to stay where Dean had held him. Then he looked around with his eyes. "Are we...are we in snow?"

"Uh...yeah. You'll never guess where we are, dude," Dean grinned.

"I need to get back. There's a test on Tuesday and I don't know why I'm not home studying for it, but-"

"Sammy, I dunno what's goin' on in that head of yours right now, but you haven't been in school for a while now."

"W-what do you mean? What are you talking about?" Sam asked, swallowing against his dry throat.

"I need you to continue not flipping out, okay?" Sam hesitantly nodded. "Things with Jess...they didn't work out," he told him, sparing him reliving that pain for the moment. "I needed help, and I came to get you."

"Why c-couldn't you get Dad's help?" he asked.

"Because..." Dean hesitated. "Because that's what I needed your help with. Dad was missing."

"So we're looking for him...h-here?"

"Not exactly," he replied. "Right now we're waiting on a friend to return with help, and we've gotta keep warm, and preferably quiet."

"We hunting something?"

"Sort of. Right now we're kinda hiding."

"I'm c-cold."

"Yeah, I know," he pulled him closer, tucking his face back under his chin. "Freakin' Alaska, man."

"Alaska?" Sam pulled back away. "That where we are?" he looked at him incredulously.

"Your idea."

"H-how did you... Did we... Did you g-get on a plane?"

"Oh yeah," Dean let out a small laugh. "You made me get on a plane. And it crashed into the damn ocean. And then we were on a boat. Thanks for that, by the way."

"C-crashed? No wonder I feel like h-hell..."

"That's actually another story, but I'm hoping you remember it by the time we get the hell outta here." I just need you to trust me for now, okay?"

"A-always trust you, De-" he said before breaking off into a cough. Dean held him close when his body tensed up with the severity of it. Sam hurt all over, and the effort of coughing just made it worse, and it didn't seem to want to stop.

Dean tried to pat his back a bit to help him. "I gotcha. It's okay, I gotcha," he told him, his mind flashing back to when Sam was just a scrawny little kid, fresh into high school and...well technically he'd just been pulled out for a hunt up in North Dakota, and there'd been an ice storm.

Sam hadn't complained about it. He was too pissed about leaving yet another school, and too excited to finally be actually going on the actual hunt. He couldn't decide how he wanted to respond outwardly to it all, so he'd just kept his mouth shut...

_They'd just finished burning the carcasses of their latest hunt. Sam had been standing off in the distance; some form of rebellion that he could get away with and not start any shouting matches. Dean knew that. Hell, he knew Sam was pissed about the school thing, and he was grateful the kid was being mindful enough to not fight with their dad. He made a note to make sure and reward him for that somehow; maybe take him to a museum in town or something the next day._

"_Let's pack up and get outta here," John told his sons, looking over to Dean, then whipping his head around in search for his youngest. "Sammy, come on," he told him again. "Don't just stand there. Help your brother take the bags back to the car."_

_Dean watched Sam push away from the tree he'd been leaning up against. He took three steps, stumbled and fell, catching himself on his hands and knees before scrambling to get back up again._

"_Sam?" Dean furrowed a worried brow._

"_'m fine," Sam pushed back up, trying to brush the snow off of himself. "Time 'sit?" he asked, his eyes tracking between his dad and Dean. _

_John dropped the bag and shovel he'd picked up, and went over to Sam. "You feelin' okay? Cold?" he asked as he crouched down on one knee and pulled a glove off._

"_Fine, Dad," he replied, but John placed a bare hand on the boy's face._

"_You're like ice, kiddo." He looked back and forth at Sam's eyes. "And you're not shivering. Dean!" he shouted without looking away from Sam. "Grab the stuff and get to the car, now. We need to get Sam someplace warm, ASAP."_

"_Dad?" Dean questioned as he hurriedly grabbed up the bags and shovels, almost comically balancing to hurry toward where they'd parked. He watched John pick Sam up and head there as well. "Dad, what's wrong with Sam?"_

"_Probably hypothermia. We need to get him warm."_

_Dean held onto Sam in the back seat while their father drove like a bat out of hell to the motel room they'd planned on checking out of earlier. He rushed them inside and started stripping Sam of his damp clothes._

"_Pull down the blankets, Dean," he ordered. "And strip down to your shorts."_

"_Huh?" Dean asked as he pulled the blankets down._

"_I've gotta go get some things to warm him up, but in the meantime you need to use your body heat to do it, son. Strip down and get in the bed." Dean hesitated for a moment, the worry on his father's face a rare and frightening sight. "Do it!" John shouted. Dean flinched and began tearing off his coat and shirts._

_But now his focus was on Sammy. This little, pale, scrawny kid who usually would be fighting his father, standing there looking confused and lethargic. "Is he gonna be okay, Dad?" Dean asked, his voice slightly shaking. _

_As John picked the boy up, he turned to Dean, realizing the fear for his brother. "He'll be fine if we get him warm, son. Go on, get in there," he nudged in the direction of the bed with his head. Dean hurried over and climbed in, and John set Sam down beside him. "Hold onto him, kiddo."_

_The moment Sam's skin pressed against all of Dean's, was the moment he realized how cold Sam actually was. "Jesus fucking Christ!" Dean yelped._

"_Mind your tongue!" John scolded halfheartedly as he pulled the blankets up over them, tucking in on each side. Dean tried to fight the tears that threatened to form in his eyes, knowing Sam hadn't said a single word about being cold, and that he hadn't noticed it. _

_John was ripping the blanket from the second bed and draping it over them. "I'm gonna run up to that drug store down the road," he told him. "They should have some heat pads or some damn thing. I'll get everything we need, and I'll be back in five minutes if I can manage. You keep him safe, Dean. You keep him warm as you can, got it?"_

"_Yes, sir," he replied, tucking Sam's head under his chin. He watched as John left, locking the door on his way out. "Sammy...why didn't you say something, huh?" he asked his brother. "Why'd you let it get so bad? I know you're pissed, buddy, but you can't do this shit, okay? You can't... God, Sammy, don't do anything like that ever again..."_

It was movement out the corner of his eye that pulled him from the memory. Shadows outside. "Fuck. Not now, damnit," he cursed, grabbing for the shotgun behind him. Sam's coughing was leading the thing straight to them. "Come on, Sam. Need you to try and stop for a minute, okay? The thing is gonna find us."

Not that it would've helped, because clearly it already had an idea. But instead of it coming in through the opening, Dean heard something overhead. The snow was breaking off and pushing in. Caving...

Dean pointed the shot gun up and waited. Waited for the moment he saw the shadows.

He fired...

TBC...

**AN: This is supposed to be the last chapter, but there was something more appealing about doing the one remaining prompt in a separate one. It'll be kinda short, most likely. But since there'll be no "end" to this cracky version, since no prompts can be made on Kaz's last chapter, I felt it fitting to end it the way I plan to in the next one. Her last chapter will have no bearing on that one ;)**

**Prompts:**

**Prompt: I would love to have Dean have a flashback to the first time they had to deal with hypothermia, preferably wee or teenchesters with a nice helping of angsty/worried John.**

**Prompt: I think you should have the boys hiding from the shadow monsters, but then Sam has a cough attack because of the trials, giving away their position.**

**Prompt: when sam wakeup he losthis memory of last several years,like aminesia,he forget about everything past going to standford,jess 's death,their fathers death and everything else,dean have to deal with it and hunt the monster as well"**

**Prompt: It takes Father Maniitok longer to get back with help than he thought it would, because of another storm, so Dean has to come up with an innovative way to keep Sam and himself warm and hydrated.**


	6. Chapter 7 (set right after MY Ch6)

**Director's Cut- Last chapter (for realz)! Comes directly after my last chapter.**

***~.~***

"_...and anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain. Don't carry the world upon your shoulders, for well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool by making his world a little colder. Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah..." Dean sung to his brother who had slept through the night and well through the morning. He used to sing it to him when he was a baby. Then one day Sam had found it annoying and frustrating and he wasn't a baby anymore so Dean needed to just stop it. So Dean used it to wake him up with, after that._

"_How's his temperature, Dean?" John asked as he entered the room again with some lunch. _

"_It's good, Dad," Dean replied, glancing over at the Chinese food containers right as his stomach growled. "Come and eat, son," he said with a slight smirk at the sound._

"_Soon as I can get Sammy to wake up," Dean told him and turned back to his brother. "__Hey Jude, don't let me down." John smiled fondly at his son as he pulled the items out of the bag and set them on the table. "You have found her, now go and get her. Remember to let her into your heart-"_

"_Ugh..." Sam groaned. "De- stop it," he turned his face into the pillow and tried to pull the other half of it over his exposed ear._

_But Dean was smiling because Sam was finally awake. "Rise and shine, Sammy," he told him. "Time for some grub, little bro. You slept through breakfast!"_

"Dean," he heard a voice, familiar, yet he couldn't place the name in the moment. "Dean, come on, man. You gotta wake up." But Dean didn't want to open his eyes. He was comfortable and warm and screw whoever it was that was talking to him right now. "Dean, man, I need you here. I can't get Sam to wake up."

That did it.

Dean's eyes snapped open as the sudden realization of where they were, and the moments leading up to his last conscious thoughts, came flooding back to him in a rush of memories. "Sammy?" he pushed up to sit.

"He's okay," George assured. "He's warmed up now. Might've gotten himself a bit of pneumonia for his trouble, but he's alive. Lucky for you I was in earshot of that shot you took at the monster. Made the whole thing cave in on you. Good thing I brought help back with me."

"How long have we been back?" Dean asked as he spotted Sam and moved to get out of the bed to go to him.

"You both have been out a good twelve hours," he replied. "Need to get him up and get some fluids in him. Here," he handed Dean a bottle of water. "You too. We've got soup cooking, so try and get him up while you drink that in the meantime. Need help getting up?"

"I'm good," Dean said, pushing up to stand and wobbling only slightly. George stayed to make sure Dean got to the chair beside Sam's bed.

"I'm gonna go help out Aunt Fay. Be back in a bit."

Dean nodded in his general direction and searched his brother's face. His cheeks were red with near-frostbite. He could hear the rattling in his chest and knew George was probably right about the pneumonia.

"Sam," Dean instinctively reached out to put a hand on his forehead, feeling the temperature there and liking it a lot better than the last time he'd felt the kid's skin. "Sammy, c'mon. Time to wake up." Sam didn't so much as flinch. "Don't make me do it, Sam. I'll do it, I swear," he threatened. Still no response. "You asked for it..." Dean cleared his throat and began to sing as softly as he could, so no one but Sam heard him. He got a bit closer to him to do so. "Hey Jude, don't make it bad," he paused a moment to see if Sam would react. "Take a sad song and make it better... C'mon man," he begged. "Remember to let her into your heart. Then you can start to make it better. Hey Jude, don't be afraid-"

"Mm-" Sam groaned as he fought his way out of the depths of sleep, and then was violent thrown into consciousness when his lungs decided to put up a massive fight.

"Hell," Dean moved to help Sam to sit up, patting his back firmly once he did. Sam subconsciously gripped Dean's arm that held across his chest as he tried to expel whatever seemed to really not want to be in his airway. Dean could sense his panic and tried to calm him. "You got this, Sammy. It's okay. You got this. Just sick is all. A little pneumonia. You just gotta get some of that crap outta ya is all. You'll be okay."

Sam tried to listen to what his brother was telling him. There was already pain shooting through his entire body from the events leading up to now. Last thing he could remember was the ground going out from under him. Then nothing. Whatever happened, though, it hurt like something close to Hell to cough.

Dean grew more concerned when Sam's coughing didn't seem to let up at all. The struggle threw Sam into a panic, arms flailing out to find purchase, legs swinging out and almost causing him to topple off of the bed. Dean pushed out of the chair and into the bed, pulling Sam flush up against his chest and held onto him around his back. "You're okay! You're okay, Sam, just breathe!"

*~.~*

"Sounds like you've got a sick one back there," a woman with wavy dark hair said as she sat at the bar with her coffee.

"Yes, poor dear," Aunt Fay replied as she fumbled around in the cabinets in search of something. "Gone and got himself pneumonia. Him and his brother were out trying to track down that...thing that's been causing all the insanity around here. Got themselves hurt and trapped. Lucky George found them when he did or-" when she looked over again, the woman was gone. "What in the world?"

*~.~*

"Guh...oh god it hurts..." Sam said, throat tight and every muscle clenched against the pain.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean replied, still holding onto him. "Should I get you to a hospital or something?" he asked fearfully, panicking and not knowing whether or not they'd be enough.

"You could," a voice came from the doorway, and Dean looked over at the unfamiliar face. "But there's a monster out there and you're probably the only ones who can kill it."

"Who are you?" Dean nearly scowled, cautiously.

"I'm...just an observer," she replied. "Maybe I've got a few tricks up my sleeve." She took a step forward.

"Stay where you are!" Dean shouted, and Sam turned his head to see why Dean sounded so tense. "I don't know you, and I don't know who you think we are-"

"You're the Winchesters," she shrugged.

"What're you a friend of George?"

"Know the guy, but we're not close or anything."

"Again I'll ask, who are you and what do you want?"

"My name is Claire. I want the same things you do, Dean," she replied. "And I know that Sam is sick with more than just pneumonia."

"W-what?" Dean asked, eye twitching.

"I know about the trials," she told him. "Pneumonia on top of it, I don't think Sam would do very well recovering. Hospital would just put him at more risk."

"Yeah?" Dean tried to sound angry, but the fight was wearing out of him at her every word. "What the hell can you do about it then?"

"I can fix him up," she replied. "But there's a catch."

"Always is," Dean grunted and shook his head.

"You can't kill me. That's the catch," she said. "In exchange for helping your brother, you let me live."

"Why would we kill you?" Sam asked weakly.

"Because I'm a witch, and that's generally what you do with us."

"You're a witch?" Dean asked, brows raised. "Perfect. Yeah no thanks, lady. You can take your magic potions someplace else."

"Listen, kid," she replied, shaking her head. "I'm not here to dupe you into some kinda trap. There's no double-whammy spell added on to the healing part. I just wanna help your brother and also not get killed."

"And why would you possibly care about him?" Dean asked as Sam tried his hardest to hold back a whimper at his spasming insides as he hid his face in Dean's shoulder.

"Because you're the only idiots around dumb enough to try and kill this thing who might actually get the job done."

"How do you know about the trials?" Dean asked.

"I told you. I'm an observer. Now...you wanna sit there and ask me questions and hold your brother until he dies? Or you want me to help him?"

Dean was hesitant. He wasn't one to trust so easily, especially when it came to matter of Sam. But feeling him shaking in his arms had him considering it. "Sam?" he said, turning his head a bit more toward him. "This is your call, man." But Sam didn't respond. It's when Dean realized his grip had gone slack. "Sammy?" he pulled Sam's head away so he could look at him. Sam's face had lost its color, and his breath was just barely wheezing in and out rapidly. "Sam!"

"You need to let me help him!" Claire said as she came closer. "You've got no idea how bad it is." Dean looked back and forth between her and Sam, hesitance reigning him. "Come on, man! Make a decision!"

"I swear to God if you hurt him I will end you so slowly and painfully-"

"Yeah yeah, make a hole, short bus," she said, approaching the bed as she pulled something from her jacket. Dean stood, not leaving eye-shot of his brother as the witch laid him down and poured something into his mouth. "That's it, just let it down," she told Sam. "Get a bucket," she said without looking away from him. "Dean!"

"Bucket..." Dean looked around the room. Closest thing to it he could find was an antique washtub Aunt Fay had on the dresser as a decoration. He grabbed it and handed it over. "What's it for?" he asked, but then Sam lurched up and immediately because hacking up a lung again, and Claire held the bucket in front of him as whatever crap she'd just given him came back up, and stuff just kept on coming up with it. It wasn't vomiting, Dean realized. Sam wasn't throwing stuff up from his stomach. This was coming from his lungs, and the realization had Dean fighting the urge to puke, himself.

"That's it, Sam," Claire said. "Get it all up, and you'll be right as rain. Well, maybe a cold, but there's no cure for that, now is there?" she smirked.

Dean watched as the flow became less intense, until Sam was just coughing dry, and then flopped back onto the bed unconscious. Dean hurried over. "Sammy?" he put a hand on his forehead as he knelt beside the bed.

"Relax. He'll be okay," Claire told him. "He's worn out. Let him sleep a few, then feed him," she said as she set the bin on the dresser. "Hopefully won't see ya later, Dean Winchester," she said as she headed for the door.

"Wait, that's it?" Dean asked, looking to her with a raised brow.

"What, you want me to make you some chamomile tea, precious?" she quirked a brow. "I did all you needed me for. Now I trust you'll keep your end. I'll get out of your hair so you can take care of him."

Dean seemed confused for a moment. "Uh...thanks," he told her, and watched her give a small smile before turning to head out again.

"Oh," she turned back for a moment. "By the way, what you boys are trying to do—it's very noble. There's a lot of bad out there, and the less the better. So what you're doing...it's great. But...keep in mind, things like that? Things like that come with a price not everyone is willing to pay."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"It means...Sam might be willing. But are you? When you figure it all out, when you get to the finish line, will you be willing to give up all your chips? And uh...that's not a question you need to answer to me with. I just...I see how much you love your brother. I had that once. If I could have it back... Hell, Dean, there's just some things in this world that you would trade everything to have. Even if it meant that the rest of it would be shit." She looked sad, Dean thought. Almost as if she might start to cry, and damned if he didn't feel sorry for whatever the hell it was she was saying to him. "Take care, Dean."

"Uh...yeah. You too." And she left.

Dean looked down at Sam as he sat on the edge of the bed beside him. He brushed his hair back out of his face as he appraised him, noticing his color was back and he was breathing okay now. Whatever Claire had said, he was sure had something to do with the trials, but he couldn't even let himself think about that right now. He was already pissed that Sam was the one doing them. That was supposed to be Dean's job, but he couldn't do anything about that now. He'd ride it out with Sam, just like he always did. And he would make damn sure nothing happened to his brother, no matter what fate might have lined up for him...

~End.

**Prompt: Dean finally wakes Sammy up by singing to him or sings to him later on?**

**Prompt: How about a supernatural entity being good for a change and helping the boys? Could be anything, and help them in any way, that's up to you!**

**Prompt: Now, what to do to Sammy...maybe some pneumonia. The worse the better in my book **


End file.
